KeonLi, Android 22
by Gohanroxme
Summary: When Goten and Trunks find a mysterious girl in a cave who can't remember anything, they instinctively invite her to meet their friends to see if they can help her out. But when the girl turns on them, they find something out ... I know, terrible summary.
1. My Powers Go Outta Control

Keoni, Android 21: A DBZ Fanfic:

_My second fanfic. hope you like it. And, by the way, Goten is eleven, Trunks is twelve, and Marron is seven. My OC, Keoni is twelve. And there are actually many genres. Some parts are humorous, some mysterious, and some hurt/angst. So sorry for just naming it adventure and mystery. And there are lots of main characters too: My OC, Goten and Trunks, Goku, and Android 18. So . . . I'm labeling it any._

The girl ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, her black ponytail flying behind her.

The soles of her sneakers crunched loudly against the dried leaves of the forest floor.

The girl's side ached and her chest burned, breath ragged in her throat, but she desperately continued on.

Sickening sights played throughout her mind . . . over and over . . . a terrible surgery . . . a terrible pain . . . a terrible doctor . . . the doctor's terrible death.

At last, the girl found she could run no more and ducked into a gray cave, where she collapsed, exhausted . . . .

My ears twitched as I heard a noise . . . a little boy's voice in my head.

"Oh, my gosh! Guess what, Trunks? I found a girl! A girl!"

I heard a snort come from somewhere in the background. "Quit pulling my leg, Goten. What would a _girl _be doing in a cave?"

"I dunno," the other boy answered. "Come ask her."

I clenched my fists as I attempted to roll over onto my back.

Every movement amounted to a nearly unbearable pain.

I managed to suppress howling in distress. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

How could I have endured so much anguish? What had caused my body so much suffering?

"You'd better hurry up, Trunks!" The first boy had shouted. "She's waking up!"

That voice . . . it was so intimate . . . like I should've known it, but I still didn't.

I restrained from opening my eyes, afraid of the agony I'd have to withstand if I did.

I listened as I hard footsteps and another male's voice, perhaps older than the other one.

"Goten, _girls _aren't something you lie ab-" His voice had stopped shot of his sentence.

"I'm not lying," stated the first male.

"I can see that now," said the second. "Is she alive? I can't feel her ki."

One of they boys' hands touched my chest. I winced slightly.

"Her heartbeat's going . . . but you're right, Trunks! Why can't we feel her ki? Isn't that . . . _messed up_?"

"Relax, would ya?" One boy told the other. "It's not _totally _messed up. We can't feel 18's ki either, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! Must be a lady's thing."

"No, cuz we can sense our moms' . . . ."

I tuned them out completely. What had they said again . . . ? 18? Yes . . . 18. That name . . . that number . . . It was _so _familiar.

My breathing pacened as something dawned on me: I couldn't remember. Not a single thing. My mind was blank. Not even my name was clear to me. It was such an alone feeling. And it scared me a whole lot. I felt so helpless.

And then the feeling came back at me with such a force, that my eyes shot open and I jumped to my feet, ignoring the excruciating pain.

The words spurted from my mouth before I could think: "_I can't remember!"_

That was when I saw both boys for the first time: One was shorter than the other with spiky, black hair that went in every direction possible. The other boy was around my age (I knew that much) with light purple hair and memorizing blue eyes. Both males had a look of surprise on their faces.

"R-remember _what?" _ Asked the purple-head.

Much to my amazement, I answered him. "_Anything_."

As soon as i'd said those words, I took note of how pathetic and lonely I'd sounded and a wave of nausea knocked me to my feet.

Everything got dizzy and found myself heaving my stomach contents out in front of those strange males, which wasn't much.

Tears welled in my eyes again, but for a different hurting . . . memory loss.

I felt a gentle hand on my back and looked up . . . Purple-Head.

"Hey, it's alright," he coaxed, trying to settle my hysterics. "We'll find away to help you, if you want."

He helped to my feet, and much to my embarrassment, I was leaning heavily on him.

The black-haired boy gazed at me curiously. "I guess you'd want to know our names, huh, before we try and help you out? Our name's-"

"_Goten and Trunks_," I blurted.

They stared at me in amazement. Even I was stupefied. How had I known that? I'd never even seen those guys in my life!

Nausea tried to overtake me again, but I forced it away.

How had i known those two's names, but not even my own. Wasn't that odd? _Impossible maybe?_

Trunks, the Purple-Head, studied me hard. "How'd you know that?"

I avoided meeting his eyes. "No clue."

"How about your name, then?" Goten prodded.

My eyes darted up to give him an intense glare. "Does memory loss mean _anything _to you? It's just so stupid . . . not even my own name is clear to me."

Both boys' faces had a tinge of sympathy in them.

"Maybe the Z-Fighters can help," Trunks suggested thoughtfully. "And my mom, maybe."

I stumbled back as a picture of a woman with pretty blue hair flashed through my mind. Trunks's mother. Bulma Briefs.

I wanted to break down and cry. How could I know all these things? All these things about other people, but not myself?

Trunks saw the tears that were probably in my eyes and put arm around my shoulder. "Hey, girl, please don't cry! It makes us feel . . . guilty."

Despite myself, i let loose a wry smile, sarcastically saying, "My heart _bleeds_ for you."

Trunks shrugged. "Gosh, Goten, have we ever met a girl _without _sarcasm? Isn't it odd? This girl who can't remember anything knows about sarcasm!"

I stared at him. "That didn't exactly make me feel better."

He gave me a nice, genuine smile. Somehow, I got lost in it. He was cute . . . he was _handsome! _

I shook the thought from my head. I barely knew the guy. I was right! I did barely know the guy! So why were he and his friend so intent on helping me out?

I was just some weird girl who couldn't remember her own name. A girl they'd found lying in a miserable heap in a dingy cave!

I pulled away from Trunks, eying them suspiciously.

"_Why," my_ voice cracked, "would you want to help me? What can you possibly figure out that I can't?"

Goten grinned. "Oh . . . that. I thought you were gonna ask us why we were staring at your- um, never mind. Our family and friends saved the world a whole bunch of times, so we can't refuse a call for help."

"I didn't call for help," I stated simply.

Goten laughed. "Oh, well, we'll help you anyways." He began to hover in the air. "Trunks, you can carry her, and we'll head to Capsule Corp."

I jumped back as Trunks advanced toward me. "No! Don't!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Can you fly?"

I felt a tugging in my gut. I wasn't really sure that I could fly or not, but the uneasiness in my stomach disagreed.

"Yes," I said uncertainly.

Goten and Trunks shot into the sky. "Well, c'mon, then!"

I looked up at them, hesitant. The yanking in my belly intensified.

Perspiration formed along my eyebrows as I concentrated on what I wanted to do . . . fly. I begged myself to comply, to listen to my pleads and make like the two boys in the air above me. And then I lifted into the sky.

"Whoa, you really can fly! You know ki! I only know four humans that know ki!" Goten exclaimed.

I swallowed thickly. "I-I'm ready. Can you take me to your friends now?"

The boys nodded. "Follow us."

Now if getting into the air was difficult, moving in different directions was nearly impossible to figure out. I almost fell a number of times. But somehow, I felt as if I.d flown before . . . like it wasn't my first time.

And my feelings were all mixed up about Trunks and Goten: _Should I trust them? _I guessed I should since there was no one else to help solve my amnesia. _Could they really help me? _Maybe. _Would I start to remember? _Maybe. _Who was I? God knows who! _The answers to my mental questions weren't reassuring. And then I realized that I _desperately _needed answers or else I'd be miserable for the rest of my life that I couldn't remember!

And so I took of after Trunks and Goten, speeding as if my life depended on it, the wind drying my eyes and blowing back my hair. Which it did.

A few minutes later, I noticed a city beneath us and a huge house larger than the others. Goten and Trunks landed, do I did, too.

There were lots of people outside as if they were having a party, or something. One I hadn't been invited to. I felt outta place.

Trunks saw me hesitating and took my hand, which made me flinch.

He blushed, dropping it. "Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. The Zfighters and wives are having some reunion at Capsule Corporation. See, we just wished everyone back from a Cell incident and- um, I think I just lost you."

Actually, he _had_ lost me. He'd lost me at "wished."

But somehow, I'd recognized the name "Cell" instantly.

A large green creature with a tail, pink eyes, and a malicious grin blinked through my mind.

Trunks caught my arm just before hit the ground as a sick feeling of vertigo traveled through me. I clung to him desperately, blushing deeply.

"Y-you ok?" He asked me, concern creasing on his brow.

His care made me shy and self-conscience. I stepped back weakly. "Um, yes, I'm fine, really. Thank you."

"Trunks!" Goten called from a distance. "C'mere! I found your mom!"

Trunks grabbed my forearm and pulled me along through the green grass, tearing after Goten.

He stopped when he spotted his mother, a middle-aged woman with cerulean hair. I stared at her, transfixed, as more information flew through my mind: Husband: Vegeta; Child: Trunks; Father: Dr. Briefs, famous scientist; Mother: Mrs. Briefs.

My head throbbed and a pain formed behind my eyes.

"M-mom?" Trunks called. "_Helloooo_!" His mom took no notice, chatting away with some friends.

Trunks began to tug at Bulma's clothes. "Yo! Mom! I-"

"Not now, Trunks," his mother shushed.

But Trunks kept at it, impatient. "Moooomm, there's somethin' I got to-"

Bulma put a hand in his face. "Oh, go away, Trunks. Having a conversation with Chichi and 18, here."

I then took note of the two women standing in front of her: One had black hair, in a bun, and the other had almost shoulder-length blonde hair.

My brain informed me of the black-haired one: Name: Chichi; Child: _Goten _and Gohan; Father: The Ox-King; Mother: Unknown; Occupant: At home mother/ martial artist. Husband: . . . _Goku._

My heart rate suddenly sped up and my fists squeezed for an unknown reason.

Goku . . . that name was so awake in my mind, as if I'd heard it many times over.

To my surprise, I was growling in vexation, eying Chichi with mad hatred.

An electrical charge crackled around my body and the earth shook beneath my feet. Gray clouds darkened the sky, lightning emitting from them.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, warm to the touch. Trunks. "H-hey . . . what're you doing? What's the matter?"

I completely ignored him, taking a stern step forward. Mass murder pounded in my ears with a thundering noise. I knew what I had to do. I had to kill Chichi, the wife of Goku. Then Goten and Gohan, the sons. And then the real deal.

I raised a hand, forcing some energy into it. The ki lit up at my palm.

"T-Trunks?" Bulma quivered. "Do you know that girl? Is she a friend of yours?"

I saw some men gather around me, but didn't really bother to acknowledge them. My head was filled with a rage that I didn't know I had! My body was reacting on some kind of instinct. Some kinda anger that I couldn't control.

"Hey, stop!" Goten cried. "That's my mom you're after!"

In front of me, Chichi was trembling with fear.

But then a tallish man with hair like Goten's stepped in front of her, gently pushing her back, his hair going golden.

I was a bit surprised, and my fury and loathing took a giant boost. My breathing was so uneven, it felt as if the entire world was shaking. A roaring aura surrounded me. Because the man was Goku. And somehow, i knew i had to kill him.

Goku ran his now-green eyes over me, as if wondering who I was.

"Why are you attacking us?" He asked slowly.

I wasted no time in replying: "Because I have to."

That answer had astonished me. Of course I didn't have to, right? Right?

"Who sent you?" Goku questioned.

I spoke the truth. "I dunno."

"Then why attack?"

"I already answered that."

Goku frowned. "Can't you at least tell me your name? I don't like fighting strangers."

_I shouldn't be having this conversation, _I thought. _I should just blast him though the heart._

But I answered his question anyway. "Again, I don't know, but I know I need to kill you."

"_But why?" _Goku pouted.

I heard a growl from somewhere behind me. _"Arrrggghh!_ Kakarot, you're getting nowhere with the child's answers! Just blast her already! Blast her, or I'm stepping in!"

I didn't bother to turn around. I knew that voice: Vegeta; Wife: Bulma; Children: Trunks; Father: King Vegeta; Mother: Unknown; Other relatives: Tarble; Occupant: Saiyan, martial artist.

Goku held up a hand like he was going to shoot me, but I could tell he wanted to interrogate me some more.

"But- wait, Vegeta, can't I just ask her how she _got_ this strong? Not even Goten is-"

"That's it, Kakarot! I'm jumping in. If you won't take advantage of this moment, I will!"

I could feel his weak energy of a Super Saiyan behind me, aiming to blow me in the back of my head.

I merely ducked without effort, lifting a fist behind me, knocking it into his face.

And Vegeta crumpled into a pile at my heels, his nose shedding blood.

"_Dad/Vegeta!" _Goku, Trunks, and Bulma yelled.

"That was very rash of him," I said.

My snarl sounded odd coming from my mouth. "How weak does he think I am? Jeez, I can shake the world!"

Trees were quaking and fell.

Goku took his fighting stance, his golden hair going spikier, one strand in his eyes. "Hmm . . . you knocked Vegeta out. I guess that's enough for me."

He attempted to roundhouse kick me, but I grabbed his leg and swung him away with ease.

"Gosh, Goku," I taunted. "My mind's told me so much good things about you that I didn't think you'd be this feeble!"

Goku landed hard on his back, coughing.

_"Goku/Dad!"_ Goten, Chichi, and Bulma shouted.

Goten ran up and yanked my arm. "Hey, that was my father! Why would you do that, huh? Trunks and I tried to help you, but you threw it back in our faces, you bitch!"

Although I didn't remember much, I knew that the term "bitch" was a sexist insult.

In retaliation, I whirled around and kneed him in the gut. "Goten, I don't appreciate being called that, you little sexist-piggy!"

He gasped in pain.

So yep, I was on a roll.

From behind me, I could see Trunks rushing an ambush on me, but I just blasted him outta the sky.

"Is it just me, or is it raining Saiyans lately?"

On the ground, Trunks gazed hard into my eyes. "You . . . I trusted you. I thought you really needed help. You're such a . . . jerk."

His words calmed me down a bit. I was hurting his friends for a reason I didn't know. I needed help more than ever now.

But instead of letting up my rampage, I rounded on Goku, who was struggling to his knees, wincing.

"Heh, heh . . . i-if you think you can get rid o-of me t-that easily, then . . . you're h-highly mi-" Goku fell to the ground, passing out.

Man, I must've really beaten him up with that throw! But it wasn't enough. He needed to be exterminated . . . later. I needed my fun.

I laughed, turning to face the crowd of men surrounding me. Most were trembling and cowering uncontrollably, but one short guy with black hair stepped forward.

"I mean, _come on_!" He exclaimed. "Why's everybody always hating on Goku for? He's a really nice guy! For real, we just came back from Otherworld and we need a _break!"_

His name was Krillin. Occupant: Martial Artist; Father: Unknown; Mother: Unknown; Children: Marron; Wife: Android 18; Origin: Orin Temple.

I cocked an eyebrow. Android 18? There was that familiar name again. And "android" . . . what did _that_ mean?

Beside Krillin, a taller man with a straight, black ponytail and scar, slapped his forehead, horrified at Krillin's boldness.

But Krillin held his ground. "Um, care to answer me? See, I'm not normally the courageous one around these parts and it took a lot to confront you like this, so would it hurt to give me a straight answer?"

So I did. And the words I spoke caught me by surprise: "Because I was born to kill him."

Everyone blinked their eyes, flabbergasted.

Krillin kept coming at me, brave, muttering miserably, "I guess since Gohan and Piccolo went on their stupid walk, I'm the man of the house now." Then he said, "Fight me."

That same blonde woman held Krillin back. For some reason, my brain had no accurate data on her.

"Krillin," she warned with an edgy voice that she tried to keep calm. "I'd strictly advise you not to-"

"Hey, no way, 18!" Bulma interrupted hysterically. "Don't discourage him! He said it! He's the man of the house! Now save us, Krillin!"

Krillin flashed her an irked glance. "Gee, thanks, Bulma. Keep the pressure on me."

The blonde kept hassling him. "Krillin . . . listen to me . . . oh, sure you're the toughest and most idiotic human on Earth, but you're not the strongest one here at the moment. Let me-"

Krillin had turned to face her, compassion etched across his face.

That confused me. He had compassion for the blonde chick?

"Hey, relax," said Krillin. "Can't I at least try _18?"_

I blinked. 18? _Android_ 18? The one that was married to . . . _Krillin?_ That was _her?_ Why couldn't I get any data on her? _Why?_ It worked for everyone else! And what did "android" mean?

I fired a ki blast at Krillin, but he cart wheeled away, did some flip-twirl thing, and handstand kicked me square in the chest.

I was surprised because it had hurt a whole lot, and part of the reason was cuz he'd hit me in what twelve year old breasts that I'd had. I made a mental note that that was a weak spot.

I staggered back a little, then regained composure, smiling sinisterly, knowing that the blow I was about to give Krillin would kill him completely.

I put up a fist. "Now . . . this'll be fun!"

But just as I was about to hit him, 18 shot forward and took the blow, hardly looking phased. And her breasts didn't seem harmed, as I'd hit her in the chest.

"_Touch him_," 18 forced out sternly, "and I'll make you wish you hadn't. This goofball's died one too many times for my liking."

And 18 cocked her fist . . . and punched me in my right cheek, rendering me unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

Keoni, Android 22: A DBZ Fanfic:

**Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ. All rights go to Akira Toriyama. I really, really wish I did own DBZ, though. Eh . . . I could keep dreaming.**

_A/N: Ok, so this is chapter two in my second fic. I'm really glad I got reviews right away and people who put my story on their alerts list and favorites. So thanks. And some parts are written in twelve year old kid style cuz Keoni's twelve. And, uh, I don't really know what Marron's real personality was as a child so . . . please don't anger over the way I picture her . . . well, _kinda_ picture her. Onward with the story! _

My face was sore . . . sore and stiff.

Slowly, I lifted a hand to touch the right cheek that I'd been socked in. It throbbed painfully. Ouch.

I took my time, sitting up. And a small gasp escaped my lips. _Oh, no . . . . _I was in a bed. _A bed_! I was in bed with a large, fluffy quilt over me and it wasn't even _mine_! Well, I thought it wasn't.

So where was I? Whose bed _was_ that?

I leapt out of bed and thought. I thought real hard, too, about what I remembered last.

I had looked at Chichi. I had looked at Chichi, and she'd reminded me of Goku. And at that instant, I knew I had to kill Goten too, cuz he was close to Goku. Because I had to kill Goku! I needed to. And that eerie thing I'd said before was true: I was born to do it.

But then, what had happened next? I had fought Goku, Goten, Vegeta, and Trunks . . . and they'd all lost. So who had beaten me? Who'd made the right side of my face temporarily immobile?

And then a blonde woman's picture dashed through my mind: Android 18.

My teeth gritted at the thought of my sudden defeat. A punch to the face! Pathetic! How was I winning so well against the Saiyans, but lost when the stupid woman fisted my face? Her power level was about 210 points weaker than a Super Saiyan 3 form, so how did she win? _How_?

Was it her love for Krillin that brought her strength? The need to protect him? I didn't know.

I also didn't know why I wanted to kill Goku or his friends in the first place. Trunks and Goten had invited me over for help, and I probably blew that chance.

Why had I attacked them? Why as I born for that? _Why_ did I _believe_ I was born for that? And what had happened to my memory before meeting Goten and Trunks? What was my _name_?

And another thing . . . where had all that power come from? When I'd been found in a cave, I could barely stand, let alone fly, but by looking at Chichi, all my weakness had diminished, unleashing brutal potency. I shook the Earth with measly steps. But now all my power was gone and I was just some young girl in rather tattered clothes who didn't know where she was at the moment.

I stepped toward a round window on the left side of the room and peered out. I was still at Capsule Corp. I knew cuz I recognized the place where we'd fought.

And I wanted to leave. I did _not_ want to be seen by the Z-Fighters . . . two humiliating. So I tried opening the window, but it wouldn't budge. I could just blast it open, but then everyone would hear and come running.

So I had to sneak out the front door. Darn it . . . .

I went to the bedroom door and cautiously creaked it open, peaking out. The coast was clear as far as I could tell. I stealthily crept down the stairs, noticing with dismay that the end of it led to the kitchen. I just hoped nobody was there. And nobody was!

I reached out to grab the front door, but then I heard a voice. Bulma's.

I froze. Crap.

"Hey, you!" She called from the kitchen, washing dishes. "C'mere!"

I shook my head. "No."

"_And_ _why not_?" The blue-haired woman pressed. "Surely you'd want something to eat?"

Just then, my stomach growled, much to my annoyance cuz it was in agreement with Bulma.

I nodded. "Yes, but—"

Bulma motioned me over. "_But nothing_! Just get over here and grab a bite! I know you're hungry."

I couldn't refuse her offer. I just climbed onto a stool and sat down as Bulma whistled happily, fixing me something to eat . . . as if nothing had ever happened between us, though plenty had! I couldn't understand why.

"Um, excuse me?" I said warily. "Why're you so . . . cheery? I tried to kill your friends."

Bulma merely waved that away. "Oh, no worries kid. My friends have all tried to kill each other at one point. And 18's told us some stuff that may have explained your actions."

I couldn't hide my excitement. "A-about me? You mean what I can't remember?"

"Uh, huh."

"Then can you tell me please?"

Bulma moved her head side to side. "Nope. I'm sorry. It's . . . something I've gotta leave for 18 to tell you."

I stared at her, confounded. "E-eighteen?"

"Yeah. The chick who pummeled you."

I glowered at her. "She did _not_ pummel me." "Whatever," Bulma muttered, rolling her eyes. "Getting knocked unconscious in _not_ being pummeled. I'll remember that one."

My anger towards her comment almost made me miss the last part of it: "Oh, yeah. 18 told me to tell you not to look at any of the Sons. You know, Goku and his family. Don't even peek at em." Her face was grim.

"But why—?"

"She says it'll tick you off. Understood?"

"Yeah—I mean— understood."

And then Bulma gave me some food, which was just some leftover fried rice and beef and broccoli, but it quenched my hunger.

I should've left, but I wanted those answers from 18. So I went to sit on the couch, feeling somewhat confused and mixed up.

The TV was on. I thought the channels were switching by themselves, at first, but then I noticed a girl with blonde hair, about seven years old, clicking freely.

She turned to me, twirling one of her pigtails with one finger. "So . . . I heard that my mom knocked the _big, bad_ wolf out . . . with one punch."

I was too interested to be irritated. "_You're_ Android 18's daughter?"

"_Just plain Eighteen_," the girl corrected snidely. "My mom'll pummel you again if you say that 'android' word. No one calls her that anymore."

"She didn't pummel me!" I snarled, but then calmed down. "What does android mean anyway?"

The girl shrugged. "I dunno. I asked her, but then she looked like she wanted to bite my head off, so I just shut up."

"Oh." So maybe it was an insult or something? "What else you know about it?"

The girl glared at me. "I said I didn't know! But my Papa told me that it's some . . . past stuff. And she didn't have to give me that nasty look when I asked . . . ."

I just watched her closely, gathering her biography together.

She was Marron. Daughter of Krillin and 18. Had a crush on . . . . _Goten_?

Oh, wow. I almost laughed out loud.

Marron must've noticed my amused expression. "_What_?"

I looked away, hiding my grin. "Nothing. Where's your mom anyways?"

"Out back," Marron answered absently.

I wanted to find 18. I wanted to talk to her. I needed those answers.

So then I started to stand up, but Marron's hand shot out and grabbed my arm. "Don't!"

I gave her a guarded squint. "Why not?"

"Cuz Mrs. Chichi's out there!"

"So?" I suddenly remembered Bulma's warning and cringed. "Oh, yeah."

And just then, I heard a voice: "Hey, Bulma, I'm starvin' here! That senzu bean Krillin gave me . . . I think it _increased_ my hunger! Isn't that weird? What kinda food _does_ that? Oh, and that girl gave me such a beating! Did anyone manage to stop her?" _Goku_.

My eyes instantly darted down to look at my feet. I couldn't look at him. If I did, I'd Goku crazy like before.

I could hear Bulma rustling in the kitchen, answering Goku's question. "Well . . . 18 sorta . . . _pummeled her_."

What was up with that stupid word? Aggravation was building up on my chest.

_"She did not pummel me!"_ I cried crossly, glancing up sharply.

Bulma gave me an alarmed look, shouting, "_Close your goshdamn eyes_!"

I shut them without hesitation, surprised from her sudden outburst.

I could feel Goku's eyes on me. "Oh, wow! There she is! It's her! And you say _18_ beat her? _How_?"

"A punch to the face. It was a real sight, Goku. You shoulda seen it. 18 was all . . . _wham_!"

"Whoaaa," the Saiyan marveled. "Well, ain't that something? Krillin's gotta tough woman. I wish Chichi was that strong."

He kept on chattering away: "I wonder how high that girl's power level is? I couldn't sense it when we fought and—"

He stopped short, gasping, his eyes wide. "_Bulma_ . . . ! You don't think that that girl's a—?"

Bulma intercepted him. "_Goku_! Hush . . . I know. 18 wants to tell her, so keep quiet. Here. I made you some Ramen."

"Oh, boy! Yum!"

Though my eyes were now on the TV in front of me, I couldn't pay attention. I just wanted to know how Goku would've finished that sentence. And why Bulma had stopped him. And why the person who knocked me out wanted to tell me something.

It was odd. How could someone just wake up in a cave with no memory of how she got there or anything else? It was _frustrating_.

And Bulma kept saying that this 18 person knew. But how? If she knew me, then why would she have attacked? And it couldn't have been just to save Krillin's life. It had to be more.

And then there were two more voices: Goten and Trunks. _Goten_ and Trunks. I kept my eyes on the television.

I heard a yawn come from Trunks. "Boy . . . how long have me been out, Mom? I mean— _really_? I thought senzu beans kicked in sooner. That girl must've given us a real . . . ."

He trailed off when he saw me, his face surprised. "S-she's still here? _Great_! Mom, can you help her? She . . . er, lost her memory."

Gee whiz . . . _not_ the reaction I'd been anticipating. He still wanted to help me? I couldn't believe it.

I avoided looking at Goten, but said to them both, "R-really? You still want me here?"

"Why not?" Trunks asked casually. "We could really, _really_ use another fighter."

Him saying that sorta warmed my heart. He wasn't mad at me . . . even though I beat up on him and his friends. He still welcomed and offered me help. I smiled. Trunks returned it.

I then grew a little embarrassed. "A-and I'm sorry for . . . _pummeling_ you." I was a bit happy to use that 'pummel' thing one somebody else.

Trunks's cheeks had a reddish tint to it. "And we . . . forgive you, don't we, Goten?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah . . . we forgive you."

And Trunks smiled again, making my face feel steamy.

"_Ooooh_!" Bulma squealed from the kitchen. "Trunks, are you _flirting_?"

Another voice appeared behind me. A gruff one. "Is who flirting?" Vegeta.

"Trunks," Bulma answered with a crafty grin. "He's flirting with that girl."

Vegeta's head snapped around to look at me. "What—s-she's still here? I figured _somebody_ must've beaten her and . . . ugh, Bulma I need some _food_."

"Oh, yeah," Bulma mused while opening the fridge. "18 battered her."

_At least it's a different word_, I thought bitterly.

Vegeta was snickering at my sour expression. "A punch in the face finished you? And you say you beat Kakarot? As if!"

I glared daggers at him, crossing my arms. "So what? 18 broke both of your arms a long time ago! Guess she's just our downfall."

_There I went again. Dammit._

"I remember that!" Marron exclaimed suddenly. "She told me!"

Vegeta was looking so stunned that I knew I was right. And Marron had confirmed it, too.

"How'd you know that?" He demanded, his face resolute.

I uncomfortably shifted my shoulders. "Ummm . . . it comes . . . _naturally_." It wasn't even a lie.

"Oh," the Saiyan went on, his eyes piercing into mine. "So other peoples' business just comes . . . _naturally_ to you?"

Well, he didn't have to say it like that. He didn't have to remind me that I was an outsider all the way through. My gaze was now on the floor, with me saying nothing.

"_Daaad_." Trunks looked antsy. "Don't piss her off."

I didn't _feel_ pissed, though. Only miserably distraught.

"Yeah," Goten harmonized. "Don't want another bloody nose, do you Vegeta?"

But I didn't _want_ to bloody his nose. I wasn't _mad _at him. He was right. Other peoples' business shouldn't have been mine, too. I shouldn't have known that. It wasn't normal.

Vegeta was about to say more, but then Krillin, Yamcha, 18, some people I've never scanned over before, and who I thought was Chichi, but couldn't be sure cuz my eyes had closed at the sound of her, entered the room.

And then I heard a velvety voice in my ear. Android 18: "Are your eyes shut?"

I nodded, wanting to open my eyes to see her so badly for some reason, but rejected the urge.

Instead, I asked her, "What do you know about me? What can you tell me?"

"Later," she said firmly. It made me want to drop it.

I could sense every one of the "Z-Fighters" sitting around me in silence, even the ones who hadn't fought me earlier.

A tall, bald man—who had three eyes— broke the tension: "I know everyone is out to get Goku and all but . . . how did this girl even get here? How'd she find us?"

"Yeah, _how_?" 18 muttered, and I couldn't help but steal and a peek at her keeping a steady eye on Goten and Trunks.

"Maybe she tracked Goku's ki?" Krillin suggested.

"Yeah, maybe!" Goku babbled, his mouth full of probably his 48th bowl of noodles. "No offense, but my ki is pretty large, you guys, even if I try and suppress it."

Vegeta was seething with envy. "Enough boasting, Kakarot! We already _know_ that your ki is higher than everybody else's!"

"Well, I was just using reason, Vegeta. Zeesh, what a hot-head."

"Hmph."

Goten managed a nervous giggle toward his father's insult. Nervous because, well, cuz 18 was still warily eying him and Trunks, her blue eyes _very_ impenetrable.

She was about to open her mouth and say something, when the two both broke under pressure and blurted, "We found her! We brought her here!"

A couple of people gasped, but 18 just smirked. "I thought as much."

"Well, why'd you guys do that?" Yamcha shrieked. "We could've _died_!"

Well, I wouldn't have killed him. Just Goku, Goten, and Chichi . . . and wherever that Gohan fellow was.

Trunks frowned. "And here we were, tryin' to do some good deeds, only get yelled at like this . . . ."

"Yeah," Goten chimed in. "We were tryin' to find the stone Dragonballs to give to Mr. Popo. You know, _stone_ cuz we used em last Sunday and it hasn't been a full year yet."

"Yeah, so then I looked in a cave and found the chick," said Trunks.

"But," Goten peeped. "_I _found her."

Trunks nudged him in the ribs. "Oh, shut up."

Goten continued the story; I heard him rub his side. "Yeah, so then we were all surprised and stuff and then she jumped up and screamed—"

"Wait, I'm lost," Goku cut in inanely. "_Who_ jumped up and screamed?"

"_The girl!"_ Goten and Trunks synchronized noisily. "She jumped up and screamed 'I can't remember!'"

I felt my cheeks flushing. Had I sounded that stupid?

Trunks was speaking alone now: "So we asked her what, and she's like, 'Anything!' So we figured maybe Mom could help her out. We brought her over and she unexpectedly kicked our . . . _arses_." Bulma was shaking her head at his . . . language.

And I nodded. That was pretty much the story as I'd remembered it.

"So can you help her, Mom?" Trunks pleaded.

Bulma bit her lip. "I can try . . . but 18 might be able to more than me."

All eyes were on Android 18, including mine.

She crossed her arms, her eyes avoiding everyone else's. "I can't . . . exactly . . . give her her memory back if that's what you're speculating, Bulma."

There was a hitch in my breathing. That's what I'd kinda been assuming.

18 noticed it and twisted to look at me. "Give you your memories back? How would you expect me to do that?"

I felt my cheeks heating as I fiddled with my fingers. "I dunno. Bulma just . . . kept taking about you like you were the answer to everything."

Bulma shrugged. "Eh. Sorry."

I clenched my fists in my lap, filled with impatience. "Then what _can_ you do, huh, 18? I don't need anything but my memory and if you can't do that much, then you're _useless_ to me."

"Uh-oh," Goten gulped.

"Then I guess I am," she replied coolly, her gaze unfaltering.

And it made me think that she wasn't useless after all. She _knew_ she wasn't! She was just . . . _just_ . . . messing with my mind, I think. And it was . . . _confusing_.

I stared at the ground, feeling misled and puzzled. "Ok . . . s-sorry. I don't think . . . you're futile. You probably know more than me, anyway."

"I do."

I met her eyes. "Then _tell_ me!"

"I can't."

I almost lost it. "What the _heck_ is your _problem_, huh? _Why_ can't you just _tell me_? I just want to know and then I'll never bother you people again!"

Bulma leapt over the counter and sat on it. "Yeah, 18, why don't you just tell her what she is already?"

18 sat up straighter, glared at Bulma, and snapped, "Because I'm not read yet! So don't go slipping words like 'what.'"

Oh. Cuz she wasn't ready. She wouldn't tell me my own business cuz she wasn't ready. Uh, huh. That explains it all. Yup. Really does.

I stood up sharply, my eyes probably blazing with fury. "_Why_? If you know who I am and crap, then tell me! I'm eager for this! You don't know what I'm going through!"

18's icy eyes pierced into my emerald green ones. "_Yes . . . I . . . do._"

And then I shut up, staring at her in disbelief, the room going deathly silent.

Krillin broke it, leaning back in his seat, his arms behind his head. "Oooohhh . . . I get it now. I know what she is!" 18 rounded on him. "Don't say anything."

Krillin grinned. "My lips are sealed . . . ."

I spun to face him, giving him a steely eye. "_Tell me_, or else."

How disloyal. He answered me right away. "_You're an—_!"

"SHUDDUPP!" 18 screamed.

Krillin shut his trap, much to my aggravation.

I sat down heavily on the couch, tears blurring my vision. _It wasn't fair! _Android 18 knew something about me, but she wouldn't tell. That was so . . . _selfish_! I was _so_ eager for these answers that were tearing me down. _So eager_! Why did she want me not to know so badly? It wasn't any of her business anyway! It was _mine_. So I just wished that she would spit it out already.

Goku then spoke up. "Yo, 18 . . . you speak as if you can just tell her tomorrow or something. Remember . . . if she really _did_ lose her memory, then she can't recall where her parents are, or where she lives."

18 pondered over that for awhile, giving Trunks time to shout, "She can stay with us! Mom, we have _tons_ of rooms! _Please_? I found her, so it's only right that she stays with us."

Both Bulma and Vegeta looked reluctant for my stay. I blushed.

_"But I found her!"_ Goten whined.

"Goten," Bulma said with a wink," I know for a fact that she can't stay with you."

There was confusion in his voice. "Huh? Why not? We have rooms too, you know!"

18 glowered at Bulma, her voice venomously cold. "You know . . . if Chichi hadn't passed out like that, then I wouldn't have told _you_."

Bulma sighed. "Well, gee, thanks. You're so arctic."

Ok. I knew that much. I couldn't stay with Goten because he and his family spiked my energy. But why? If I just figured that out, then I could probably figure out who I was.

"She . . .," Yamcha mused, "can stay on the Lookout with Dende and Piccolo, away from normal people."

I curled my lip in disgust. "Um, no thanks. Green aliens, not my type." I didn't know why I had acted so picky and rude just then. Maybe it was Yamcha's offensive comment.

Chichi mouthed off to me like some crazed banshee. "You're lucky Yamcha even suggested a place for you to stay, young lady! For all I care, you can stay outside in the wilderness and rain to rot! P—!"

Goku gave a tiny laugh, cutting her off. "Heh, heh, sorry about that. Chichi's normally a very nice . . . _cooker_, heh. Anyway, if you'd like to stay with someone in particular, just name em."

I couldn't believe I had wanted to kill such a nice guy.

I glanced at Trunks. He really wanted me to live with him. How sweet. I turned down him pleading gaze and said, "Umm . . . Krillin and 18."

Yup. I wanted those answers. They could give em to me.

"W-what?" Krillin stammered. "Y-you . . . you wanna . . . live with _us_?"

18 pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. "I guess . . . we should've been expecting that."

Marron looked flustered. "Are you for real? Like . . . _forever_?"

I wasn't really sure. I didn't know how long I'd take. So I shrugged, grinning at my slyness. _18 _will_ tell me those answers. I will figure out who I am!_

_A/N. There goes chapter two. Hope you liked it! Review please!_


	3. Scattered Memories

Keoni, Android 22: A DBZ Fanfic:

**Disclaimer:****I****do****not****own****DBZ.****All****rights****go****to****Akira****Toriyama.****I****really,****really****wish****I****did****own****DBZ,****though.****Eh****.****.****.****I****could****keep****dreaming.**

A/N: Now, I'm _so_ sorry that this chapter took a long while. I've written this same fanfic about a year ago in a notebook and the last chapter was only how far I'd gotten in it. So the rest is improvised! Thanks everyone for waiting out for this! And review because they make happy!

The Kame House.

The place where an old man named Roshi lived, where Krillin had stayed since he was thirteen. Where he and Goku had been "trained." Where Krillin had tried to cheat at finding a rock that Roshi had drawn a signature on. Where a girl who's sneezes made people run for their lives used to stay.

Where Krillin's dumb, blonde wife was trying to steal all my memories.

I punched my pillow, or at least, the pillow Krillin had let me sleep on for the while I would stick around.

So, yeah, I was in the guestroom, across the hall from Marron's, and in between Master Roshi's and 18 and Krillin's.

I wanted to scream my lungs out into that pillow.

I didn't want to be here. So maybe I'd earlier acted like I wanted to, but I didn't. I just wanted my memory and to be outta there in a flash.

Was it so hard just to be told who you were and all that? Was it no simpler than that?

Well, maybe it wasn't. But why wouldn't it be? Why did it take someone coming to your house just to tell them some memories?

And why the hell would 18 have my memories in the first place? Why would she know who I was? Cuz, like, if _she_ knew me, everyone else would too, right?

I sat up and gazed out the window. It was dark now, stars glittering in the skies, the crescent moon very visible in the air above.

I sighed. It was beautiful. But for all I knew, that could've been the first time I'd ever actually stared at the sky like that.

I felt strange and miserable and foreign, even to myself. _Sick_, was the more accurate feeling. Just sick. Because, really, not knowing who you were was enough to probably drive you over the edge.

My mouth was dry and sticky, and I wanted a drink, but was too afraid to ask.

So instead, to occupy myself, I got up and stared into the dresser mirror across from me. Because from the time I awoke earlier today, I'd wondered what I'd look like.

I had black hair in a loose, messy ponytail, mocha-colored skin, and startling blue eyes. Even I knew that that was an odd combo. Blue eyes and dark skin? Seriously? I knew I wasn't wearing contacts.

My T-shirt was black with a rising sun insignia on the front. My jeans were pale and ripped. The socks I was wearing were black, too, with two, red R's at the bottom. Whatever the hell they stood for.

And . . . and I had scars. Terrible scars and stitches on my back and stomach that ached a bit when you touched `em. I noticed them when I took a shower earlier.

And they . . . they looked fresh . . . ish. As if I'd gotten them somehow before I'd lost my reminiscences. Could they . . . be the cause? Was that why I couldn't remember?

Gosh, there were so many questions to answer . . . .

I collapsed despondently onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. I was tired, but I didn't want to sleep. Maybe I was afraid that I'd loose my memory again if I did. I just . . . didn't feel like closing my eyes right then.

But somehow . . . I drifted into slumber.

I was in desert looking area. For some reason, my mouth was dry with anticipation, my heart racing. Tension was in the air, I could feel.

My head suddenly jerked up to look at the sky.

There was a man about seventeen with a spiky, golden ponytail blocking this monstrous creature, a sickly green, blue, and dark orange color with fat, pink lips and a tail with a needle-like tip from getting someplace. On it's head were two, vertical plates and it had very pale, blue eyes that were glaring down on one subject.

My eyes automatically darted to the left, where I noticed a frightened looking group: blonde woman, a bald man, and this other man with a red Mohawk.

I blinked in astonishment. Oh, my, gosh. T-the blonde was . . . 18? I studied the short, bald one for a second. Was that . . . Krillin?

All of a sudden, there was a bright light that emitted from the insect-like monster, and everyone in the area started clawing at their eyes and screaming. My eyes weren't affected, I noticed.

And that's when the monster took it's chance, charging right past the teenager who looked familiarly like Trunks, and down to that three-person huddle.

And then it dawned on me. That thing was Cell. My mind went numb, my mouth going arid. And Cell was created by . . . Dr. Gero. Doctor . . . Doctor Gero . . . he was . . . was—

A sound similar to a toilet being unclogged filled my ears, along with several muffled screams, but I couldn't turn around to acknowledge them. My body was frozen in place. Damn it, I couldn't move!

The stifled screams where still ringing out, but I didn't know where it was coming from, what was going on or causing them.

And then, abruptly, they ended, and another bright light and strained laughing started up for about three minutes before ceasing too.

I felt my muscles relax. I could move again.

And I turned around to see . . .

Darkness.

Everything was dark, pitch-black, like nighttime. Everyone was gone.

But something was glowing in the blackness. Something blue. Like eyes. And they were nearing me excruciatingly quickly.

Finally, I could make out a face, Cell's face, only it was different, his voice different too, as he shouted at me, "You're next, android!"

His face was twisted in a malicious sneer, and before I could move, he lashed out toward me his needle-sharp tail and—

I jolted up in bed, screaming, my heart racing in my chest. My stomach felt queasy, churning painfully as I clenched the sheets tightly, breathing heavily.

Oh, shit. I'd screamed. I'd probably woken the whole house, too.

But I didn't really think on that; I was trembling uncontrollably, my head and belly aching.

My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. I quickly gulped the bitter liquid back down, shakily stepping out of bed.

I was going to be sick. I just knew it. Wasn't the bathroom beside the closet? Or was it the other side of the room? Did it even have a bathroom in here?

My head was throbbing harder, my mouth watering. I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach heaved and I threw up right there, hearing the disgusting sound as it splattered again the wooden floorboards.

I stood there quivering heavily, staring down at my mess. Crap. What the hell would I do?

I then turned around, hearing footsteps at the door.

Marron came rushing through the door, dressed in a white t-shirt and pajama pants. "What? What is it? Why'd you scream? Did you hear something? Cuz the walls, they always creak like that, and . . . oh."

The "oh" came after I'd vomited again, the force of the heave knocking me to one knee.

The blonde girl stared at me, backing out the doorway. "You're sick? Are you ok? Cuz I can get my dad if—"

"No need, kiddo." Krillin then showed up, looking tired and bedraggled, ruffling her hair.

I glanced up at him timidly, breathing raggedly, holding in my urge to cough up something unpleasant. "I-I'm sorry. I . . . forgot where the bathroom was."

Krillin gave me a tender smile, but it looked a little strange, and pointed across the room. "That door. Next to the closet. — " _Goshdamn__it!_ — "Do you still feel sick? Cuz you can go stand by the toilet if you'd like."

Feeling stunned, I did, kneeling by the toilet while Marron's dad cleaned up the floors. I still felt nauseous, but nothing else came up. And the headache was still there. Plus, I could feel the ex-monk's eyes on me the whole time.

When Krillin was finished mopping, he came to stand by me.

"You alright? What made you scream like that? Because the walls, they always creak like—"

"That's what I told her!" Marron piped up.

Startled by his question, I remembered what had shaken me out of bed and froze, a violent shiver traveling down my spine.

"I . . . had a nightmare," I said quietly, trying to grin nonchalantly.

I was pretty sure I was grimacing though.

But Krillin's face looked very solemn, almost pale. "Nightmare? You want to tell me about it? It always helped Eight—" He faltered and I stared at him warily. "N-nothing. It just always helps to talk about scary dreams. What were you dreaming about?"

Nodding, I started to tell him, that uneasy feeling growing in my chest. "I—I was dreaming about . . . Cell."

Krillin's round face was very worried. "C-Cell? You know about him?"

"I just, I dunno, know about him," I said lamely. "And I saw him, in my dream, charge you and 18 and this red-headed guy."

His gaze was too intent. "Then what happened?"

"I . . . couldn't move. I was frozen backward. But I heard these weird noises . . . like an old bathtub being unplugged."

"_And__then_?" His voice was almost breathless.

He was making me feel uncertain. "Everything went dark after that. But then I saw Cell's eyes in the dark and he charged me too, unleashing his tail." My breathing took a sharp turn, catching in my throat. "And he . . . he called me an _android_—"

"Marron, go wake your mother for me," Krillin cut in suddenly. His face was anxious, sort of excited looking, and nervous.

The girl blinked. "Mom? W-wake her? _Now?_ Oh, Dende, Dad, she'd be so cranky. This's her first night to sleep all we—"

"_Now_!"

"I'm _going,_ I'm going! Jeez."

My body was shaking again on account of recalling that dream, my sickness, and how weird Krillin was abruptly acting. But I didn't say anything.

And then Marron came back, her hair kinda messed up, 18 following her groggily. I could see it took her eyes a second to register what was going on.

She stared at her husband, then at me, and finally the mop. "What . . . ?"

"She . . . threw up," Krillin finally stated, his voice candid. But behind the bluntness, I could note something else, but couldn't entirely acknowledge it.

18 blinked, eyeing the mop and bucket some more. "Well, it seems you've gotten _that_ cleaned up. So why am I awake?"

"Because she was sick—"

"Krillin, you _said_ that."

"18, let me _fin_-_ish_." He glanced at Marron, then at me. "She was _sick_ because of a _nightmare_."

The way how he was saying it made me sound really pathetic. I still didn't say anything, though.

But 18 though, her pale eyes were serious, eyeing me with curiosity. "You . . . dreamt of Cell? A nightmare? Care to tell me?"

I shrugged, feeling anxious. "Oh . . . If you want to hear it."

She pointed at the bed, signaling me to sit down, taking a glimpse at Krillin.

He seemingly knew what that look meant, wrapping an arm around of Marron's shoulders. "Let's go, firefly."

His daughter knitted her blonde eyebrows. "Hey, but . . . I wanted to see what you told me to get Mom for."

"Let's go."

_"Man_ . . . ."

When they'd left, 18 studied me for a little while.

Finally, she said to me, "You know, you have blue eyes . . . ."

She said it like it meant something important.

I glanced at her. She was really pretty, actually, I'd noticed. Sharp features.

"You do too," I observed.

She blinked. "I know." Which made me feel kind of weird. "Hey, tell me about your dream."

My stomach gurgled nauseatingly. "Oh . . . yeah."

"You're going to be sick again," 18 stated bluntly.

I resisted clutching my stomach. "No. It's okay; I'll be fine."

Her voice was stern. "No. You _will_ be. I know."

I gave her a strange look as she stood up and went to a drawer in the bottom of the dresser, pulling out a plastic bag from the corner of the room, bringing it toward me. "Here. Use . . . this if you need to."

I reluctantly took it. "Sure. But . . . why do you keep those in there?"

She stared at me with intense, azure eyes, and I thought I'd hit a nerve. I was about to apologize when she started to reply: "I used to . . . stay in this room. Krillin bought a lot of those for me."

"Wh—?"

"Tell me about your dream already."

I got the idea to drop it, taking a shaky breath. "Well, I . . . saw you."

18 arched an interested brow. "_Did_ you?"

Nodding, I answered her, "Yeah. You and Krillin and this guy with a Mohawk. And Cell and someone who looked like Trunks."

A faint smile graced her lips as she mouthed a silent "Oh."

"And then there was this bright light that came from Cell," I continued. "Where he shoved past that Trunks look-alike and sped down towards you three.

"But for some reason, I couldn't turn around. I heard these strange noises th—"

"I was absorbed," 18 told me suddenly.

I looked up at her, furrowing my eyebrows. "What?"

Her eyes, normally intense and pensive, actually showed a bit of emotion.

"Cell sucked me up through his tail."

I stared at her in astonishment. "Why? _How?"_

The emotion was growing, but when she blinked, it was gone again.

"Because he can. Because it makes him stronger and more appealing, he assumes." The look in her eyes was back. "Because of what I am."

"What . . . are you, then?" I asked her tentatively.

I supposed 18 pretended not to hear me. So I continued. "He called me an android."

That seemed to catch her attention. "Cell's an android too."

I nearly choked on my saliva. "Huh? Was he saying I'm like him?"

"No." She wasn't looking at me anymore. "You're like me. I'm also an android."

My breath shuddered in my throat. "An . . . android? What does that even _mean_?"

"It means . . . you were cybernetically-implanted."

My body was feeling anesthetized. Was she kidding me? How could I be? I didn't look, nor did I _feel_ mechanical.

I glared cautiously at her. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Don't I look serious?"

I scowled deeply, hoping my glare had intensified. "You always look serious! How can I tell if you're making this up or not?"

18 was glowering at me too, her voice that was always level and calm raising a bit. "Why would I be? You wanted to learn how you lost your memory. So don't you doubt me when I'm willing to tell you."

I almost gasped as that dawned on me. She _was_ telling me, wasn't she?

I diffidently looked down at my hands, feeling a bit ashamed. "I don't feel . . . cybernetically-implanted."

"Because it's inside you," 18 told me. "Can you feel your blood running though your veins?"

"Of course not," I scoffed. "That's like . . . impossible, I think."

"Yes. Just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean it's not there."

Well, I knew _that_. "And just because Cell _said_ I'm an android in a _dream_, doesn't make me one."

The blonde woman frowned. "Alright, then. Let me play this card . . . do you know who did this to you? To me?"

I felt a peculiar twinge in my heart. "What . . . do you mean?"

"Who made us like this? Made us unable to look at the Sons without astounding burst of energy?"

There was another tremor in my chest, my stomach feeling airy and weird.

18's eyes were boring into me. "Do you know? How about you _think_?"

I was breathless.

How were her words making me feel like that? Why was she even _asking_ me those things? They didn't apply to me, right, because I wasn't an _android_? And what did she mean _she_ couldn't look at Goten and his family? I thought that was just _my_ crazy problem!

And then, suddenly, something clicked inside as I remembered something from my dream. A reminiscence that had been interrupted . . . a memory that was . . . _Dr.__Gero_ had created Cell.

And then, I abruptly gagged, right into the bag that 18 had given me. Because Dr. Gero had hurt me. He'd hurt me really badly . . . I'd recalled that much, but I couldn't remember how.

But I knew that he'd caused those scars on my back and abdomen. It was his fault.

Angry, confused tears blurred my vision and 18 did nothing to comfort me, not that I needed any.

Instead, she asked me, "So, do you know who, now?"

"D-Dr. Gero," I finally choked out, my head pounding in my ears. "He did it. He hurt me."

"Knew it," she said.

I felt so exhausted all of a sudden, so tired. I wanted to put my head down or something and I think 18 saw that.

So she shrugged, standing up. "I'll tell you the rest tomorrow, alright?"

I nodded drowsily, slumping back onto the bed. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear anymore, now.

A/N: There goes chapter three! Wahoo! Finally! I hope this met you guys' standards who've been waiting this whole time, and for that, I'm _really_ sorry. I have too many story ideas on the brain. Probably the worse excuse you've ever heard, I know. Review please!


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